Minor Surgery

Dark star
in the middle
of my forehead.

I cut it out
with a #11
disposable scalpel.

It will heal.
It does.

Several months later
it returns,
no longer a star.

A blob now.
A black blob.

I regret
incising it.

A star
portends greatness.
I was chosen
by fate.

But a blob?
Nondescript.
Roundish.
Who doesn't have one?

For vanity
I sacrificed the mark
of my mystery
for a blob.